In The Crossfire
by XrhiaX
Summary: Zuko is a confused 17 year old caught up in the organized crime families of Brooklyn, Katara is a 15 year old drug transporter, moving through life with her brother and friends. The two clash in an unexpected collision of worlds; Dark themes, Zutara.
1. Delivering Short

Katara shoved the white powder into Charlie's hand. It was all there, in its unopened plastic bag, completely untouched in any way.

"Where's the rest?" Charlie grabbed her forearm as she turned to leave.

"What do you mean _the rest_?" Katara snapped. "That's all he gave me."

"Don't try and con me, Katara, where's the rest?" he gripped her arm tighter. "You know what happens when you deliver short."

"That's all of it, Charlie, I promise you. Take it up with him, I'm just the pack-mule." Katara snatched her arm back and glared at him, glancing back up the dark alley. She hoped Aang would get the car soon.

"Well this isn't enough." Charlie turned his back to her.

"What? But my money-," Katara shouted out.

"When you deliver short, you regret it. That's strike one, Katara. Don't let it happen again." He looked back to her momentarily. "Besides, a girl of your talents can find … _other _ways to make cash."

"You son of a bitch-," Katara advanced on him, shoving her hand into her pocket for her pocketknife.

Charlie had a gun out in a second flat and eyed her up and down. "Hey, kid, just back away."

Katara gritted her teeth and turned on her heel. How were they supposed to get the money for Tony now? Tony was her other job, who expected money for giving her the stuff she gave to Charlie.

She dashed up the alley and breathed mist into the cold Brooklyn air. She needed to get out of this business. Her life was headed nowhere, and fast. An expensive-looking black Mustang suddenly peeled around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of Katara. She tugged open the door and climbed into the passenger side.

"Where'd you get this flashy thing?" Katara looked at Aang, then to Sokka and Toph in the back seat. Sokka was stuffing his hot-wiring tools into his pockets and Toph was looking out the back window to see if anyone was following them. Her green eyes glanced around quickly. It didn't seem like anyone was following them, despite the group of black-dressed men outside of a topless bar, watching them leave.

Aang leaned over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a wallet. He pulled out a drivers' license.

"Ozai Scorsese, forty-seven." Aang tossed Katara the wallet. "D'you get the money from Charlie?"

"He held out on me. He thinks I delivered short; we gotta go see Tony before Charlie sends thugs after my ass." Katara cleared her throat.

"We can't; Tony's out of town. Maybe Jet knows something." Aang of course was referring to Tony's son, who'd dragged Katara into the trade.

Sokka glanced back at the dust they were spitting up behind them. "Those guys saw us take the car, Aang." Sokka breathed out as he looked at Toph. Toph was kicking a briefcase in the foot-well.

* * *

"This is stupid, father. You have multiple cars, as good as, and better than that one." Zuko raised his only eyebrow. His other eye was scarred from an arson gone awry.

"The briefcase inside the car, Zuko, contained two million dollars from our last job." Ozai snapped, polishing his handgun further. "That's not the sort of cash you throw away."

Zuko sighed heavily. He'd seen the kids jack open the car, and he'd stolen cars at a young age too, and knew that they'd most likely report it the next day and leave most of its contents untouched. Then again, Zuko had been a very courteous car thief.

"Bring the child to me, and my two million." Ozai put the gun down on his desk. "Now, Zuko, I haven't got all day."

Zuko got up quickly. He knew better than to cross his father. The raven-haired girl had called to the boy hotwiring the vehicle, shouting that someone called Katara was taking too long delivering 'the stuff', which Zuko could only assume was drugs. This led him, as he walked the street with his Glock in his jacket, to think about the drug trade. His family were lowlifes, granted, but drug trafficking had always been beneath them. They were assassins, bank-robbers, catburglars, muggers, insurance-crooks, arsonists and much worse, but they'd always steered clear of the drug trade.

He passed Tony's bar and remembered roughly that a pug had mentioned the man was the top of the trafficking food chain, and if anyone was delivering, Tony would know. He shoved through the door and saw that most of the men in the bar were older men, watching porn on the black and white television above the bar. Zuko put his forearms on the bar and asked the bartender for Tony.

A man approached soon after the bartender fled through a door. This was a muscular, thin man who looked like a smackhead, with a messy, tangled head of brown hair. Zuko, being particularly fond of his messy, wild, yet somehow managable black hair was bothered by the man's shabby appearance.

"I'm Jet. Tony's my dad; he's out of town. I handle his stuff when he's out of town."

"I'm looking for someone called Katara." He eyed the man. The name was not common, he was sure of that. Whether it was a first or last name, someone would know it.

"I don't know nothin'." He leant against the bar with a smarmy smirk.

Zuko fingered his gun in his jacket, but instead pulled a couple of ten-dollar bills from his pocket.

"What do you know?" he slapped the money on the bar.

Jet swiped up the money and raised an eyebrow. "She takes packages from us to a guy called Charlie. If you're one of Charlie's goons, it's her you're after. I gave her all the stuff she was supposed to deliver."

Zuko scoffed. "Tell me everything about her last job."

"She showed up earlier, saying her guy on the other end said she delivered short this afternoon. I gave her what she was supposed to give him, he held on her with the money. She ran outta here, like Charlie was gonna send thugs after her."

"That's what happens when you deliver short," Zuko breathed, looking around. "Where can I find her?"

"Ah, she's homeless. Her friend usually steels a car and they sleep at the drive-in and abandon the car there the next morning. I was gonna send a coupla guys up after her, actually, since she didn't pay me." Jet leant forwards to glance at the television lasciviously. "Tell you what, if you go up and see her, you bring me my money and I can hook you up with whatever poison you want, no payment at all."

Zuko let a low rumble out as an answer. "I don't do drugs." He snapped, before turning for the door.

"Oh, you one-a those mafia kids, ain't'ya?"

Zuko turned quickly to look at him.

"Yeah, you are. Too good to get high, just low enough to murder and steal." Jet smirked at Zuko. "Sendin' kids who only get juvie to do their dirty work."

Zuko pulled a slight smirk of his own. "You are one person who's just begging for a bullet." He shook his head before leaving. He took off towards the drive in. He took a shortcut through a dark alley, cleared a tall wire gate and landed in the car park that shone a movie onto the wall of a nearby building. He spotted his father's black mustang and headed towards it. A bald boy with blue arrow tattoos all over his body was sitting on the hood with the raven-haired girl, eating popcorn and laughing at the movie. The boy that had hotwired the car was leaning against the driver door and looking off away from the film, into a clearing where no cars were parked, at a similar-looking girl on a cell-phone.

Zuko ducked and shot himself at the other side of the car, ducking and peering off at the girl, covering one ear and listening into the phone.

"No. No, Jet- no, I didn't. I told you, I don't do that stuff, okay? You know me, I've never delivered short before! Look, look, wait, no, Jet, look, I can get your money, okay? I just got a job, I don't have to pay rent, I can get you the money!" the girl stopped and listened closely. "No, don't do that- we- no, no, I'll come to you. Jet, this is ridiculous!" she pulled the phone away from her ear. The man had obviously hung up on her. The boy walked up to her. He was obviously her brother.

"What's up?"

"Jet wants me to deliver another package tonight. Pick me up at Tony's bar at five."

"Be careful." He patted her on the shoulder.

She nodded and took off. At least Zuko had one less to deal with. The girl's brother pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and stuck his hands in his pockets, walking up to the other two.

"Guys, Katara's gone to deliver another package." He seemed bothered by it. "We're picking her up at Tony's tomorrow at five."

"We have to stop this, you know? I mean, you got arrested last week for stealing that SUV, and it won't be long 'til someone catches Katara on possession, and probably dealing." Toph glanced at Sokka.

"Yeah, right, and we'll go to school and become lawyers. Face it, Toph, we all know where we'll be in three years time." Sokka looked between Toph and Aang. "I'll be in jail, Aang will be six feet under when those thugs catch up with him, You'll be in social services and Katara will be on welfare with food stamps and a handful of coke on her wherever she goes."

"Sokka, you know she doesn't do that stuff." Aang suddenly looked at him friend.

"It's a slippery slope, Aang. She'll end up dead then for delivering short." Sokka sighed heavily. "And I've seen the freakin' knife she carries around."

"Yeah, like we haven't seen your gun." Toph muttered. "Would you blame her after your parents died?"

Sokka sighed again. When he'd been twelve, and his sister eleven, they had been mugged and killed by a bunch of mobsters who liked their expensive adornments. Toph and Aang, who'd already been homeless, had taken them and showed them the ways of the streets. Katara had been deeply affected by the bullet she'd watched get shot into her mother's forehead.

Zuko stood up straight and walked up to them calmly. His hand was already in his jacket, holding his gun at the ready. Toph slid off the bonnet of the car and joined the boys in staring at the boy who pulled an expensive looking gun.

"I just want the car." Zuko explained quickly. "And you." He motioned to Aang with his gun.

"Why do you want me?" Aang asked.

"Just get in the fucking car, kid, okay?" Zuko ripped open the door of the car and motioned for Aang to get into the driver's side.

Just as Sokka wondered why his gun wasn't on him, he heard a loud blast that left him dumbstruck as the taller boy collapsed forwards with a thud. Katara stood behind the boy with Sokka's gun on her, smoking in her hands into the cool night air.

* * *

**A/N: And this is what I call 'Streetlit Bloodshed'. If you like Zutara, read this and my other FF 'The Vacation'. Reviews are much appreciated.**

**Rhia xxx**


	2. Execution Style Murder

"Katara, you shot him!" Aang shouted.

Katara suddenly tossed the gun to Sokka, before kneeling down beside the boy. She turned him over and examined the shot. It had spliced though his shoulder, thankfully. She was panting quickly, and Toph was the one to notice her black eye.

"Katara what happened to you?" she squeaked.

"Jet sent thugs. You three, take the car and go to Jersey. Stay with Gran Gran, I'll catch up with you. If I don't get there by Saturday, start heading for Chicago."

"What are you-,"

"Just do it!" she yelled. "I have to take care of this." Katara motioned to Sokka to toss the gun back. She caught it and shoved it in the back of her trousers. She threw her braid behind her back and shrugged up in her leather jacket, tugging the boy up by his forearms. She got him up just as the black mustang peeled away. She dragged him towards the brush of the parking lot. She lifted the badly strung fence and dragged him under it, into a dark alley that was around the back of a shabby motel. She elbowed in the window of an empty room, before picking away the shards of glass and struggling to get the boy in before herself.

She shoved him onto the wide double bed and tore his suit jacket off. His blood was seeping onto his white shirt. She'd be a fool to think he wasn't in with the organized crime mob. She ripped open his shirt and examined the through-and-through bullet wound. It had spliced through the tuck of skin between his shoulder and pecks. She ripped his shirt into shreds, wrapping it around his shoulder and around his body to hold it in place. He probably wouldn't need to see a doctor, so long as he didn't move around too much, but she knew he would want to go to a hospital. She plucked his gun out of his hand, remarking to herself how his hand clung to his gun despite being unconscious. She knelt over him and pulled her brother's leather jacket off, revealing the white tank top that scooped low enough to exaggerate her cleavage. It often got Charlie to cut her some slack; the looking a little bit trashy.

She straddled the boy and tied the end of the wrappings, before reaching into his trouser pockets for some ID. She pulled out a brown leather wallet that held a photograph of the boy standing with his hands in his trousers pocket, a taller man in a suit behind him, a younger girl standing beside him. None of them were smiling, but the man had a hand on each of their shoulders. Katara peered at the picture closer. It was her father's ring on the man's index finger. The silver ring with diamonds and emeralds in it was apparent on the man's hand. Katara put the picture back in the wallet and put the wallet down by the boy's head. The boy's arms were outstretched towards the corners of the bed, his feet shoulder-width apart. Katara sat atop his stomach, looking at his face. She pulled the ID card out. Zuko Scorsese, seventeen.

A thrash of anger overthrew her usual calm surface and she slapped the boys face viciously. He jumped into action, sitting up and shoving her away, before wincing and collapsing back to the bed at the pain in his shoulder.

"Agh! What the hell? Where am I? Who are you?"

Katara climbed back to her feet at the foot of the bed. "I'm the person who just shot you. Lie down and shut up." She put her hands on her hips, walking around the bed.

Zuko paused and examined her. "Katara." He spoke out through a rasp.

"Oh, great. You're one of Jet's goons I suppose." She grumbled, rubbing sweat from her brow as she turned on the lights in the room. She approached the mirror on the wall and examined her black eye. "Son of a bitch." She murmured, gritting her teeth. She turned back to the boy and looked at him.

"No. I just … I followed you after your friend stole a car that belongs to me." Zuko sat up, pressing his left hand to the bandaging on his right shoulder. "Why did you slap me?" she sounded confused.

"To wake you up."

"If you shot me, why did you-,"

"Because I'm not a cold-hearted bitch like you Guido's," she snapped, approaching him and sitting on the bed near him. "And my friend and that car are long gone by now."

"What'sa matter, sweetheart, got a grudge on us?" Zuko smirked. He earned himself another slap.

"I raided your wallet. Your father's wearing my father's ring, the murdering bastard." She growled at him. "Your father's guys put me and my brother out on the _street_."

"It's not like he tells them to do everything." Zuko blinked.

"Oh, right. That car isn't yours, it's your father's. You're not even old enough to drive. He probably _told_ you to go get it for him." Katara shot to her feet and examined her black eye again. "He obviously tells _you_ what to do."

"Look, bitch, _why_ am I listening to your bullshit again?" Zuko raised an eyebrow. "I don't even know you."

"Because I have your gun." She dangled it in front of him. "It's a nice gun too, by the way."

Zuko glared at her, his eyes wandering to the low cut neckline of her tank top. This earned him yet another slap.

"So why haven't you taken off then? Waiting to see if I've got some angel dust for you or something?" Zuko smirked.

Katara rolled her eyes. "I deliver the stuff, okay? I'm not an addict. I deliver it." She peered out the window. "And I'm here because I didn't know whether or not I killed you."

"That's the point of shooting someone, by the way." Zuko swung his legs onto the floor.

"Yeah well, it's kind of new to me." She took a sharp breath and pulled the curtain shut. She peered between the curtain and wall. "Shit."

"Oh, _Kataraaaa … _Here, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty …" Jet's voice approached the door. "You got my money yet?"

Katara panted quickly, glancing at the broken window. Zuko stood up, shoved her into the wall and snatched his Glock from her. He opened the motel room door and the man he'd seen in the bar looked at him confusedly. In a second, Zuko had brought the end of the gun to the other man's forehead and pulled the trigger. The man fell back and smashed his head against the concrete.

Zuko turned his head to look at the girl, who was really pale, her back pressed against the wall and her eyes perplexed on the dead man. "You weren't kidding; this really is new to you." He smirked.

Katara glanced at him and nodded slightly, thoughts racing through her mind as she swallowed. Tony was going to have her killed before she left the state. His son was dead, he was five grand short and for all he knew, Katara could go to the police and have him done for dealing.

"Oh, fuck." She managed out, still staring at Jet's cold, dead eyes. She'd known him for three years now.

Zuko threw the door shut and dropped his shooting arm. "You're so dead." He smirked, biting back a laugh. He immediately felt like a douche, because he knew that she knew how dead she was. And he knew she was contemplating her own funeral.

She brought her hands to her face in confusion. Jet was dead, and that meant she was dead. She might as well ask this guy to shoot her in the head now too, make it less painful.

"Fuck," she repeated, looking down through her fingers.

Zuko looked over her, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do in this situation. He exhaled in decision. "Okay, since you didn't kill me, I'll get you to wherever your friends went; provided I get the car back."

Katara nodded and looked back to him, her hands dropping. She grabbed her jacket and pulled it over her shoulders, now freezing cold. "Don't you think you'd better see a doctor?" she finally spoke, glancing at his half-bandaged bare chest.

"I've survived worse." He grabbed his suit jacket from the floor and pulled it on. He had, judging by the scar on his face. He swung open the door and stepped over the cadaver at his feet. Katara followed him and watched him root through Jet's pockets for the keys to a grey pickup truck, parked diagonally in the motel parking lot. Jet had never been good at driving.

Fifteen minutes into traffic, Zuko pulled a box of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one. He dragged out a long breath of tobacco, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Katara glanced at him in the light of the streetlamps.

"Are you even old enough to buy those?" she asked quickly, fingering the necklace hanging over her tan skin.

Zuko didn't answer, just moving his hand back to the steering wheel, the cigarette between his index finger and middle finger.

Katara's knee was twitching rapidly as she stared out the window. She questioned whether she should light up herself. After all, the marijuana in her pocket might as well take her mind off Jet dying. Shit. She hadn't wanted to think about it. Jet and Tony had been her sole income for the last three years. She was going to die on the street now. That was, if Tony didn't have her killed first.

She squeezed the silver pendant on the necklace. It was a sapphire and diamond Yin and Yang symbol, surrounded in silver on a silver chain. She'd pried it from her mother's cold dead hand as she lay bleeding on the concrete pavement. Gran Gran had offered to help, but Katara just wouldn't listen. She had to fend for herself, it was the only way to keep from having time or energy to think about losing her family. Her home. Her life. She and Sokka only narrowly escaped social services.

She eventually pulled the pot from her pocket and snatched Zuko's lighter off the dash. She lit the cigarette and inhaled from it shamelessly. She was sure she was hyperventilating the stuff into her lungs. She put the lighter down and leant forwards, continually dragging in more of the lit weed. As she leant back into her seat, shutting her eyes with the cigarette between her lips, she drummed the fingers on one hand onto the back of the other hand, drumming the other fingers against her lap. Zuko reached and snatched the pot from her mouth, chucking it out his open window.

"Hey!" she snapped, jerking to life.

"Don't light that shit around me." He answered quickly as the car passed a red light.

"You know what, just let me out here. I don't need your goddamn help." She unhooked her seatbelt.

"You're panicking." He spoke, eyes forward. "Last time you saw a dead body was when your parents died, am I right?"

Katara sank back into her seat. "You said it yourself, hot-shot. I'm dead. You'd better start lawyering up, because when Tony Castaldo gets me killed, you're going to be suspect numero uno." She grumbled bitterly.

"Well, I can't help that. Do something constructive with whatever time you've got left. Don't die on a loose end; have fun, lose your virginity." He glanced at her with a smarmy smirk.

Katara glared forwards, biting her lip. "Shut up, mafia boy." She pressed her fingers to her lip, feeling her blood on her fingertip.

"Ditto, pot-princess." He looked back to the road. "So where are your friends headed?"

"Jersey. Chicago if I don't get to Jersey by Saturday." Katara yawned. It was Thursday. "What's so important about the car? I'm sure a big mob boss like your father had plenty of mustangs hanging around."

"It's not the car. It's the two million dollars _in _the car. Only reason I'm telling you is because you're dead anyway."

Katara didn't answer. She stared out the window. "Can we drop that now? It's bad enough as it is."

Zuko nodded and brought his cigarette back to his lips. He glanced down at the dash to see the fuel light going off.

* * *

**A/N: because Zuko makes a great mobster. I struggled trying to decide if I wanted him to smoke, because I thought it might make him a little tired, but then I thought, oh wait, no Firebending! He just needs to be trigger-handy and smoking just adds to his bad-ass-ness.**

** :) Review! Love yas xxx**


	3. Tony Takes A Bullet

Zuko slapped the money down on the counter and grabbed up his two new packs of cigarettes and a pack of chewing gum for Katara, to shut her up. He doubted she'd take it, but he had to try. He left the gas station and made his way back to Jet's pickup. Tugging open the door, he tossed all three items to Katara and got into the driver's seat. Katara put the stuff on the dashboard and without asking whose it was, stole some gum from the pack.

Zuko glanced sideways at her, seeing her nervously tapping her foot on the floor, her knee jumping up every time she did so. "Will you stop that? You look like a psych patient." He snapped, powering up the engine.

Katara peered at him via the corner of her eye. "Sorry." She extended her leg into the foot well.

Zuko pulled the car up in front of a crappy apartment building, earning a suspicious glance from Katara. She looked up over the shit-hole.

"What's this?"

"We need a new car." Zuko replied coolly, grabbing his cigarettes from the dashboard and stuffing them in his pocket. "I need to get the keys from a friend." He got out, closely followed by Katara, and made his way up to an apartment on the third floor. He knocked on it loudly. "Ty Lee! Come on, open up!"

Katara hugged herself momentarily; just to make sure her gun was still on her, her eyes dancing out the window for anyone who looked like they might be able to kill her. The door was sucked open and a completely trashed-looking, hyper girl leaned out with a smug grin.

"Hey, Zuko! You look great! What happened to your shoulder? Are you using new conditioner?" she reached up and ruffled his wild black hair.

"I need to borrow a car." Zuko crossed his arms. "Who else is here?" he leant in to see if she had visitors.

"Sure, what kind of car did you want? A one-night back-seater?" she grinned at Katara, who winced in disgust.

"Did you say _Zuko?_" came a call from inside.

Zuko's eyes widened. "Is that _Mai_?" he hissed.

"Oh, no, hey, she was all upset and she came over and she was _crying, _like _nothing _I've ever seen before. So she's drunk and I'm gonna let her stay the night."

Zuko frowned. "I'll take her back to her parents." He sighed heavily.

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea, I mean, she kind of hates you right now." Ty Lee blocked his path into the apartment. "You know me, I'll take care of her."

Katara squinted at Ty Lee through her black eye. "Have I seen you before?"

With a quick once-over, Ty lee grinned. "Hey, yeah! You're friends with Charlie!" Ty Lee yelped happily.

Katara's eyes widened momentarily. Ty Lee was so young, though. Surely she couldn't be an addict. Then she remembered when she'd seen Ty Lee. In a shady car park on a cold October evening, just as she'd delivered a bag of coke to Charlie. Ty Lee had run out of a car, slipped some notes into the dealer's hand, taken her fix and fled like a maniac. "No I'm not." She answered solemnly.

Ty Lee made an 'O' shape with her mouth before looking back to Zuko. "Hey, do you need a new shirt? I have plenty." She asked helpfully.

Zuko nodded. "Yeah. And I'll take any car with enough gas to get to Jersey. And if you put Mai on drugs, you'll get it back with a bomb under the engine."

"Okay, no problem." Ty Lee held a thumbs-up. "Don't have to worry about that. I'll get the shirt and the keys." She disappeared back into the apartment. Zuko glanced back at Katara, who was still hugging herself. He looked back to the door, when it opened quickly, Ty Lee dangling keys in one hand and a crisp white shirt in the other. "It's the red Cadillac." She grinned.

Zuko nodded, snatching both items and waving appreciatively as he walked back down the hall. Katara jogged after him as he casually shot down the stairs. She followed him around the back of the building to a car park with four cars parked beside one another. Zuko yanked open the door and fired up the engine, Katara climbing into the passenger side, strapped herself in and glanced at Zuko with a nervous breath.

**

* * *

**

"Oh, goodness!" Gran Gran wrapped Sokka in a desperate hug. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

"Gran Gran-can't-breathe!" Sokka choked.

"Oh, come in! Come in! Have some tea!" she led them into the house. "Where's Katara?" she asked quickly, putting on the kettle. She put out four cups with Chamomile teabags in them

"She's on her way. She's doing that thing where she helps people she doesn't even know." Sokka smiled briefly. Aang and Toph sat down at the table, as Gran Gran looked Sokka up and down.

"Your trousers are too small. When did you last get fitting clothes?" Gran Gran peered at him.

"Actually, these are skinny jeans. They're supposed to be like that." Sokka scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Because they're sexy." Toph added.

Sokka grumbled. "…yeah."

"Ah. Oh, children today. Anyway, who did your sister stab this time?" Gran Gran turned and poured hot water into the cups and stirred them. The last time Katara had been late, she had stabbed someone and had to help them to make sure they didn't die. It had been a lawyer, strangely, who she'd tried to mug and ended up stabbing and then medically tending to. He hadn't sued, and had actually paid her some money to keep her from mugging people, since she was so bad at it.

"Some guy trying to kidnap Aang." Sokka shrugged, sitting down with the others as his grandmother put down the cups of tea. "And she shot him."

"Yeah, in the shoulder." Aang added, sipping his tea and then widening his eyes at its temperature.

"Katara's got Charlie's _and_ Tony's goons on her ass, not to mention that guy she shot looked like a mafia type." Toph said in thought, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Oh, dear." Gran Gran frowned. "You know, I offered to help you two, Sokka … this life isn't good for you."

"Katara takes care of us fine." Sokka snapped.

"And what if something happened to her? Then what?"

At this, all three of them grimaced. "Nothing's going to happen to her." Toph glared at the old woman.

"Yeah. She knows how to take care of herself." Aang sipped his tea again.

Sokka nodded in thought. "I hope she's okay."

**

* * *

**

The car was stuck in traffic, and so Zuko had taken the opportunity to pull on his new shirt. He had it buttoned up and he hadn't bothered to put his suit jacket back on. A new cigarette was lit between his lips and his had switched the radio on to hear the news. _'The body of sixteen year old Jet Castaldo was found…' _Zuko frowned and turned it up.

"Shit." He grumbled to himself. "The fuzz don't usually get there that fast. Two hours. That's a new record."

Katara felt her mouth going dry as the newsreader continued. _'… an execution style murder. Motel owners insist no one was staying in the suite his body was found in front of. Police officials have yet to confirm a suspect, however they got hold of the victim's father, who is understandably distraught. Before press members could interview him, though, he left, claiming he needed to see to some business.'_

Katara sank down in her seat. She was so dead. Tony was back, and he was going to have her head. "Fuck." She muttered under her breath.

Zuko drew in a deep breath from his cigarette. "So what was the deal with what's-his-face?" he kept his eyes on the road.

"What?"

"Jet. Was he your boyfriend or something?"

"Fuck, no." Katara answered.

"Ex?"

Katara squirmed in her seat. "It's complicated."

"Well, it's a long drive to Jersey." Zuko pressed a button on the radio in boredom, turning it off. "Complicated how?"

Katara grunted in annoyance. "We dated for about four months last year. We finally had a place to stay, and then he ripped it out from under us because he wasn't getting any." She glanced at him with an evil eye. "So who's Mai?"

"Ex girlfriend." Zuko countered calmly. "Sociopathic gold-digger." He explained quickly.

"Huh." Katara gave a slow nod, as if in thought. Her cell-phone spontaneously chirped out 'Live Your Life' by TI and Rihanna, and she pulled it out of her pocket with a sharp breath. It was Suki. "Crap." She pressed the button. "Tell me what you found out, Suki." She instantly jumped into the conversation.

'_Okay, so, I did a background check, there's no Haru Theodore Felton in a five hundred mile stretch of New York state. I expanded the search, cross-matched it with his description and record, he was born Haru R. Leighton in Phoenix, Arizona.'_

"…and?" Katara pressed on.

'_Detective Haru R. Leighton, trained with LAPD and New York's finest, and his current specialty…?" _Suki sounded impressed. _'Undercover work.' _She finished.

Katara felt her mouth opening wide. "He's an undercover?" she yelped in shock. Zuko gave her a suspicious glance, before looking back to the road.

'_I know! That's what I said! But there's more."_

"How can there possibly be more?" Katara drummed her fingers restlessly.

'_Well, I did a little freelance snooping and I found out what his current job is."_

Katara paused. "Go on."

'_He's trying to expose Charlie's ring.' _Suki was grinning on the other end.

Katara felt her face spread in a smile. "Suki, I love you. I swear, if my brother hadn't knocked you up, I would be a lesbian." She joked. "You're an angel."

'_I know. I know. I'm basking in the love."_

"Wait, so is he going after Tony too?"

'_I don't know. All I know is, someone gave him a tip saying you were the best way into Charlie's ring." _Katara heard Suki sipping from a cup. _'If you can find out who that was, then you've got your whole drug ring packaged and delivered."_

"Where can I find him?" Katara glanced out the window, before looking back to Zuko.

'_Pink Flamingo Motel, room thirteen. I wouldn't go looking for him. I know undercovers, they shoot and kill if they think they might get exposed. Especially on jobs like this. Anyway, are you sure you want to expose a big ring like Charlie's? You know better than anyone how long he's managed to keep it going."_

"Oh, please, Charlie's just a link in the fence. Probably a weak one too. The circuit goes up way higher than him." Katara drew in a shaky breath. "Do me a favor: Find out who Charlie answers to. Then find out who that guy answers to. Trace it up and if you find any warehouse owners, text me an address." She nodded her head decisively.

'_Got it, boss." _Suki joked. _'Hey, when did we become cops?"_

"I'm not a cop. You're doing the work."

'_Yeah, and you're eating the donuts."_

"I'm not eating donuts! And you're one to talk! How are those cravings treating you?"

'_Oh shut up. Anyway, I'll talk to you another time. I have a drug ring to expose."_

"Okay. Have fun." Katara laughed, hanging up. It brightened her mood a little bit, after a hell of a day. She tucked her phone back into her pocket, not before checking the time, though. "Wow, it's late." She looked up to Zuko.

"So?"

"Well … okay, never mind. I just figured-,"

"What are you doing with the police?" Zuko suddenly blurted out his question.

Katara paused, she stared at him for a moment. "Nothing."

"Bullshit." Zuko growled. "You're conducting your own little freelance investigation. You're going to get yourself killed, you idiot."

Katara snorted angrily. "Why do _you_ care?" she crossed her arms in hostility.

"I don't know how you do things on your side of the crime world, but we tend to avoid the police." Zuko said absently, pulling into the fast lane. "If there's an undercover, you don't help them. What makes you think you're not going to get done for your part of it?"

Katara gave a dark frown. "Oh, spare me. You sound like my brother."

With a sharp breath, Zuko glared at her for a second, before returning his attention to the road. "Look, I'm not having you bring cops into the picture. If it means dumping you out for Tony Costello to come and bash your head in, I'll do it. I've got a big job on the way, and the last thing I need is the boys in blue lingering around the place like cheap perfume on a ten dollar hooker."

Katara stared out the window. It had started raining. "They won't be _lingering _around the place. They'll arrest Tony, and Charlie, and whoever else is involved. Your people steer clear of it, then they won't be bothered."

The rain beat on the windows as Zuko answered. "You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

"Yeah? Well, maybe I am." Katara raised her voice slightly.

"Oh, there's no maybe about it!" Zuko shouted, pulling back into the other lane and slowing for the exit coming up.

"What are you doing?" Katara shrieked, staring at him with wide eyes.

"I'm dumping you out." He growled as the car split off of the highway. The car came to a halt as he turned and glared at her objectively. "Get out, or call your friend and call off your investigation."

Katara glared daggers at him. If looks could kill, she'd be decapitating him right now. "Fine, then!" She shouted at him and unbuckled her belt. She flicked her waist-length braid over her shoulder and shoved open her door before swinging her legs out into the rain. She got out and slammed the door, quickly turning on her heel and pulling on her jacket in the rain. She pushed her braid back over her shoulder and marched angrily away from him, imagining her hands around his ignorant stupid throat.

The car screeched away and she stared after it, her face softening as the rain pelted her viciously. She marched on, her hands tucked into her pockets, the rain making her navy skinny jeans stick to her thighs. She felt the short hairs on the back of her neck sticking to her skin. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, she stuck her thumb out on the deserted street to hitch a ride. It took about a half hour for a car to show up.

A dark green Chevy pulled up and the back door swung open. She slipped her hand around the handle, a thankful smile finding its way onto her face, only as she saw Tony in the back seat, frowning. Longshot was driving and Smellerbee sat in the driver's seat, glaring back at the taller girl. Katara was about to turn and run, when huge drummer arms grabbed her from behind, a tight grip on her. Her dripping braid was caught between her back and Pipsqueak's body.

Her feet came off the ground and she tried to kick at the car to throw Pipsqueak's weight off balance, however, he stayed on his feet and held her in a grip like a Pythons wrapped around her. Having seen a crappy movie at the drive-in in which this girl had managed to remove her shoe as evidence of her abduction, Katara opened her mouth wide and grabbed hold of her necklace pendant between her teeth. She let out a desperate grunt in place of a scream.

Tossing her head, she snapped the chain and threw the pendant down onto the floor. She tried to kick off one of her shoes, but was too busy kicking at the car for the purple suede heeled ankle boots to come off, especially when they took a long time to unzip and unbuckle when she _wasn't_ being kidnapped.

"Get off me!" she cried out, before letting out a sickening scream. Her feet pounded the car as she struggled in vain. "No! Let go!" she shouted desperately. She screamed again, this time loud enough to make blood curdle with the implications of such a shriek.

Pipsqueak's forearm came over her mouth to shut her up, but she bit into it in a drastic attempt to escape. She screamed again, ear-piercing and deafening, her sore throat closing with a lump in it, still kicking out frantically. Tony caught hold of her ankles and dragged her into the back seat as Pipsqueak climbed in and shut the door to hide her insistent and horrified screams from the world. Pipsqueak fastened the black sack under Smellerbee's seat over Katara's head and smashed his fist into her face, causing her to fall unconscious against the back of the seat.

**

* * *

**

Zuko drew in a deep breath of smoke as he surveyed the dark, quiet street. The car he'd been driving was somewhere near the highway with a flat, and he couldn't be bothered to bring it back to Ty Lee. _Stubborn bitch. _Zuko grumbled in thought of Katara's headstrong willfulness. Looking down, he wondered how long she'd last before her head was blown off. A pang of guilt hit him like a slap in the face. He probably shouldn't have dumped her out.

Looking down and dragging in his tobacco smoke, his eyes caught a flash of silver in front of him. He squinted for a moment and leant down to see what it was. He turned it and saw her pendant with a snapped chain loosely running through its loophole. It lay in his palm for a moment before he sighed softly. Shit. He stood up and tucked it into his pocket, spotting a car across the street. He made his way over to it, jacked open the door and leant over the passenger seat to light a spark between two wires under the dashboard.

The engine roared to life and Zuko skewed down the road and headed back toward Tony's Bar.

**

* * *

**

The sack came off in a single swish and Katara dipped her head forward, her head still reeling. Her nose had been bleeding, but now the blood had dried under her nose and on her top lip. The bright light of the overhead lamp blared into her face like the sun on an amplifier. Her eyes threatened to fall closed in exhaustion. She was in a chair, her hands bound behind her back with masking tape.

"Mornin', sweetheart!" Tony greeted sarcastically, dragging a chair across the room and sitting in it backwards, his legs either side of the back. "Sleep good?"

Katara looked up to glare silently at him. He was white, in his late thirties, with a receding gray hairline and thin lips. He had a round face and a stupid looking goatee, with piercing green eyes. "Eat shit." Katara seethed angrily.

"Oh, you're just cranky." He smirked. "Are you hungry? I think the boys must have something in the kitchen." He was toying with her.

Katara glared blankly at him, her clothes still wet and sticking to her. She wished her jacket were zipped shut, frustrated with her low-scooping white tank top. Tony was a sick bastard, and perversion was right up his alley. "If you're going to kill me just get on with it." She snarled.

"Oh, I'm going to. After all, you killed my son. A bullet through the forehead; very … clean." Tony thought aloud. "I'd have thought it was a mafia killing, but that motel was so close to the drive-in …" his eyes danced along Katara's body. "But, you see, I _will_ need my money for your last job. I searched you. I found a pack of gum, a wallet, a gun, a _big _mothafuckin' knife, and a cell-phone. No cash in the wallet at all. Which makes me ask … where the _fuck _is my money?" he leant forwards.

Katara winced at his voice. "I don't have it."

"I know that." Tony snapped. "But you're the only person who could. So you know where it is."

There was a long silence as Katara glared daggers at Tony. Tony got up and pushed his seat to the floor. Advancing on her, he grabbed her jaw and tilted her head back.

"That was five G's worth of coke." Tony growled under his breath. "You'd better fuckin' tell me where that money is."

Katara paused. "North …"

"North?"

"North … Pole … Ask for _Santa._" Katara felt a grin spread on her face despite the situation. Tony gave a feral snarl, before digging his fingernails into her skin.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time before you really regret fuckin' with me, Katara." He leant down in her face. "Where the fuck is my goddamn money?"

Katara gave a short grunt and her grin dropped off her face. "I don't know!" she managed. A clenched fist came whipping across the air into her face, tossing her head aside.

"I'm not playin' games." He grabbed her by the unbraided hair at the back of her head, tilting her head back to make her meet his gaze. "You fuckin' tell me or I swear to god-,"

"Fuck you, I'm dead anyway. Have your fun, bitch." Katara snarled at him, her face darkening into pure willful recklessness.

Tony threw her head forward and grabbed hold of the back of her jacket, tugging it down behind her back, exposing her shoulders to the chill air. Katara's eyes widened suddenly and her mouth went dry. She looked back over her shoulder. Tony put his hands on her shoulders.

"You always were stubborn." Tony sounded amused, his thumbs brushing against her neck in sync.

"Whoa, shit, stop, man." Katara jittered uncomfortably. His grip tightened on her shoulders. "Hey, fuck, stop!" she suddenly yelped as the shoulder of her tank top and bra came loosely halfway down her upper arm on her left shoulder. "I'm fuckin' serious, Tony! This isn't funny!"

He let out a sickening laugh. The kind Katara imagined coming from the batman cartoons, from the joker. "You think I'm playing?" he chortled in a depraved, twisted grin.

Katara felt her breath catch in her throat, her eyes dancing frantically around the empty room. "Tony, look, I swear I'd tell you where the money was if I knew, okay? Charlie held out on me!" she explained in a panic.

Tony breathed out a long, drug out note of satisfaction, pushing down the other sleeves of her clothes down her right arm. Katara knew a lot of this was the sheer quantity of drugs he was laced up on. Heroin, Coke, Speed, Tony did it all. Around here, that made him a sort of idol. Katara felt tears welling up in her eyes as her face turned an awful kind of pale. She drew in a desperate breath, exhaling quickly and looking up to the ceiling and desperately trying to think of something else.

His hand had grabbed her hair again and he'd shoved her head back down. The hand on her hair grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck, and his free hand was reaching down from her shoulder. Tears had run their way down her face from her eyes, dripping off her chin and for the most part, onto Tony's thin, bony fingers.

A deafening crack of wood came from behind her and Tony's grinning face dropped and looked up in horror.

A gunshot came from behind her and then Tony was on the floor, lead blasted into him from the doorway.

Katara could feel her hands shaking past the masking tape. She swallowed hard as it came away with a splitting noise. She pulled her hands into her lap and peeled away the tape on her left wrist. She took a gulp and touched her fingers to her upper lip to check for blood; her nose had started bleeding again. A hand came out of nowhere, offering to help her up. She looked up.

Zuko looked down at her with a shocked expression on his face. Katara swallowed again, taking his hand and getting up.

She pulled up her sleeves with a lost look on her face, turning to face him. "You came back." if she knew him better, she'd have hugged him.

Zuko offered a small smile, tucking his gun into the back of his trousers. "Good thing too." He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. Now he was glad he'd shot the bastard in the neck. He'd suffered more than if he'd had a headshot. He handed Katara her '_big mothafuckin'' _knife.

She tucked it into her waistband and grabbed up her jacket from the chair. Her stuff; cell-phone, gun, wallet and chewing gum were in a pile on the floor by the door. She grabbed it up and replaced it. "Come on, let's go." She glanced back at Tony's limp form, before leading the way out of the smashed-in door, out the building and toward Zuko's newest car. Zuko got in and powered up the engine, before driving around the corner and straight into a motel car park. Katara gave him a quizzical stare.

"It's three AM. You should sleep."

"What am I, five?" Katara felt her stomach growling.

"No, but you've got a bloody nose, two people have died within ten feet of you today and you were just sexually assaulted. I think that calls for sleep." Zuko let the engine die as he climbed out. "We'll clean you up, get some sleep and you won't look like a 'Nam vet when you get to your friends tomorrow. You might live yet."

Katara got out and followed him to the motel office. A pimply teenager was leaning in boredom against the counter, his eyes glued to a black and white monitor displaying some crappy reality show. Zuko dropped his hand on the bell on the counter.

The pimpled one looked up and in a half-assed tone, recited some cheesy greeting. "Welcome to the Pink Flamingo, what can I do for you?"

Katara's ears perked as she pulled her jacket back on. This was where that undercover was staying. Zuko pulled out his wallet and drew out a handful of cash. "We'll take two rooms for the night."

"One." Katara quickly chimed in. Zuko glanced at her with an uncertain look, but he eventually let his face soften and looked back to the teenager.

"One room for the night." Zuko handed the teenager the money and took his change. He was given a key and he walked out with Katara at his side. "What was that about?" he glanced at her, before looking for room number seventeen.

"Would you please just drop it?" Katara hugged herself again.

And so he did. Zuko pushed open the door of the motel and walked in first, leaving the door open for Katara. Zuko sat on the bed and shrank into a horizontal position. Katara walked in and shut the door loudly. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think you're doing?" she barked.

"Sleeping. Why, what did you think?" he grinned, turning on the lamp next to him.

"Nuh-uh, you take the couch." Katara approached the bed.

"_You _take the couch." Zuko countered. "I got shot." He pulled off his jacket and gestured to his shoulder.

"Sexual assault beats GSW." Katara put a hand on her hip.

"Hey, you can still use the bed. I'm just not taking the couch." Zuko rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head, kicking off his shoes and socks and letting them fall to the floor. "If you're really that adamant about it."

"Oh, you'd better bet your ass I am." Katara hurdled him to get to the other side of the bed. She pulled off her jacket and dropped it on the floor, before removing Sokka's gun from her jeans and tucking it under the jacket on the floor. She struggled to remove her fabulously awkward boots and dropped them on the floor too. She got up and walked into the bathroom. She turned on the light and inspected herself in the mirror. The nosebleed had stopped at least.

With a damp cloth, she wiped away the blood and gave her whole face a rinse to clear herself of the tear-stains. Letting out her hair, she admired the way the waves had come out from braiding it. Loose, it reached the small of her back with chocolate brown curves and waves. She didn't really look all that bad, to be honest. She loosened her belt a little bit, turned off the light and walked out into the bedroom, where Zuko was already under the sheets, on his back with his arms folded under his head.

Zuko looked up from the bed to give her a once-over which turned into a full-blown inspection of her beauty. She clambered under the sheets and turned onto her side, facing him. "So what made you come back, hot-stuff?" Katara ran her fingers through her damp hair with a smirk.

"I remembered why I found you in the first place." Zuko lied with a mirror smirk, turning his head to her.

"Really." Katara scoffed a laugh. "You didn't feel guilty for dumping me out in the rain?"

"Nope." Zuko's lips spread in a smile. "I lived on a predominantly jewish street when I was seven. I'm immune to guilt."

"Huh." Katara touched her fingers to her neck, her eyes falling closed. She quickly opened her eyes, remembering her stupid move earlier. "Shit!" she sat up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." She hissed under her breath.

"Okay, if you insist …"

Katara shoved him in exasperation. "I saw this thing on TV, where this girl left her shoe when she was kidnapped, to show she'd been taken against her will. I bit off my necklace and dropped it in the same kind of idea when Tony and his guys picked me up … I can't believe I did something so stupid." She grumbled falling back to the bed with an angry breath. "Shit."

Zuko pulled the necklace out of his trouser pocket. "You mean this?" he dangled it by its broken chain.

Katara's eyes widened and she snatched it before smiling at him in surprise. "You …" she stopped.

"It's okay, you can say thank you." Zuko smirked, self-impressed.

Katara snorted a small laugh. "Thank you." She dropped it into her shoe on the floor so as not to lose it. "Thanks, Zuko." She fell back to the bed.

"You're welcome, Katara." Zuko turned his head to look back to the ceiling.

"No, not just for the necklace; for all this. You've saved my life twice in one day, and all I've done is argue with you." Katara ruffled her hair a little. "I wish there was something I could do for you."

Zuko took a breath, looking back to her. "You want to know what you can do? You can call off your investigation-thingy."

Katara stared at him a moment. "Why?" she licked her lower lip in thought.

Zuko shook his head. "I don't know, I just have a bad feeling about you bringing the fuzz into the picture. In my line of work, you talk to the cops, you end up with a canary in your mouth and cement blocks tied to your feet."

Katara unexpectedly grinned. "You know what that is? That's you _worrying _about me." She laughed softly. With an annoyed groan, Zuko shook his head again and turned his back to her, laughing under his breath.

Mulling it over briefly, Katara sat up and leant over him. _This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. _She pressed her lips gently against his scarred cheek.

"Night." She swallowed nervously, falling back to her side of the bed and turning her back to him. _What are you? Twelve? That was like a schoolyard kiss!_

"Night." Zuko's reply came casually, however his eyebrows were down in thought. It was one thing to get a kiss on the cheek on his unscarred side. The side people didn't think was grotesque. Even Mai had never kissed his scar. In fact, she'd never even touched it. He felt a well of excitement in his stomach; maybe she didn't care about the scar. He quickly dismissed this whole train of thought. All this was just a distraction from his job.

The Two Million. That's what he needed to be thinking about.

* * *

**Coked up Ty Lee; LAWLZ! It says dark themed, because it is. 'North pole ... ask for santa' line, is Rutger Hauer in 'Wedlock', where the warden's trying to find out where the diamonds are. And actually, I did read this news story where this mob guy was found in the trunk of his own car with a canary stuffed in his mouth because people thought he was rubbing elbows with the cops. I'm SO happy to have a fic in which I can swear! :)**


	4. The Odd Complication

Katara gave a purr of pleasure, a grin coming over her sleeping face. She could see some male model shirtless, muscles bulging everywhere, tan, sandy blonde hair … she felt a bubble of girlish excitement bubbling in her stomach as she bit her lip in her sleep. The model was rustling his hair and smiling softly, walking in slow motion toward her, soaking wet from what she could only assume was pool water.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at the girl grinning in her sleep. Overnight, she'd ended up sprawled sideways across the bed, her legs draped over his and her head tilted aside to keep it from falling off the edge of the bed. She stirred a little bit, her grin splitting for her tongue to come out between her teeth. She bit her tongue in what Zuko could only imagine was the female equivalent of a wet dream. With a devious smirk, Zuko outstretched one leg to her side of the bed, throwing off her precarious balance and sending her toppling over the edge and onto the floor.

"Ah!" Katara yelped, landing in a graceless pile of arms and legs. "Hey!" she sat up on the floor and glared at him. "I was having a great dream, you dork!"

"Yeah, I could see that." Zuko looked duly pleased with himself. "Let me guess, Brad Pitt?" he scoffed a laugh, holding himself up on his elbows.

Katara ruffled her hair roughly in thought. "I'm pretty sure it was one of the Gillette guys." She let her gaze pan around the room. "What time is it?" she extended her arms skywards and let out a long yawn.

Zuko glanced up at the clock in the corner of the room. "Eleven." He fell back to the bed and peeled back the sheets, kicking his legs out and smoothly pushing himself up into a sitting position, his back to Katara, who was sliding her feet back into her boots and struggling with the zippers. Her phone suddenly chirped out its ringtone again.

Katara bit her lip, reluctantly answering the phone. "Hello?"

'_Jet and Tony are all over the news, Katara. What the fuck did you do?' _Sokka's voice cracked in panic.

"I didn't do anything, okay? Turns out Tony and Jet were trying to cheat Charlie. Charlie put a hit on the both of them." Katara lied to her brother. "That's why I delivered short yesterday."

Sokka paused for a long time. _'Listen, Katara, we've got problems here.'_

"Problems? What kind of problems?" Katara exhaled in exasperation. The last thing she needed was more problems.

'_Gran Gran tipped off Social Services. They took Toph and Aang and they're already looking for you.'_

Katara drew in a long breath. "Shit. Okay, okay, um … where are they now? Do you know where they took them?"

'_Yeah, they took 'em to a group home in Queens."_

"Okay, I might be able to get to them. What about that car? Have you still got it?" she glanced at Zuko, who was pulling on his jacket and looking down at her.

'_Yes. I'm in it right now. I had to get away from Gran Gran; she's going crazy, reciting shit from the Bible and that…"_

"Ugh. Not again. Okay, I have an idea, but I have to run it past my new buddy." She glanced at Zuko with a teasing smirk.

'_Okay. Careful, Katara."_

"I will." Katara hung up and looked up at Zuko. "So I have an idea."

"I'm listening." Zuko sat on the bed and forced his feet into his black shoes, too lazy to undo and then retie his laces.

"As long as that money sits in that car, it could get confiscated or stolen. I can get my brother to deposit the money into the bank, in an account, give us the account details and we can take it out of the bank here. You take the money back to your dad, he's happy and we don't have to worry about him thinking you've fucked off with his cash."

"Nah, if the money goes through the bank, the IRS will get suspicious, and a quarter of the cash will get taxed." Zuko rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's a great idea, but …"

"Right." Katara brought her eyebrows down. "Well, that means we need to get to Jersey." She took a deep breath. "But first, there's something we gotta do in Queens."

Zuko's mouth opened incredulously, but he let out an involuntary sigh and got up. "Come on, then."

Katara nodded and pulled her jacket on, tucking Sokka's gun back into her jeans. As she made her way toward the door, she punched in a few digits off by heart and brought the speaker back to her ear. Two dial tones later, there was a voice on the other end.

"_Blind Bandit speaking."_

Katara smirked slightly. "Hey, Toph. I heard you're in a bit of a tangle." She glided towards the car Zuko had picked up before rescuing her the night before.

"_You heard about that, huh? Seven AM, they drug us out of bed, practically!" _Toph scoffed in annoyance.

"Don't worry; I'm on my way to get you. Can you gimme a rough idea of the kind of building I'm looking for?" Katara put her hand on the passenger side door.

"_No, no, it's fine. We're at some shady bar with a bunch of old friends of mine. Remember the Boulder? From that fight club we started up down here a few months back? Well, it turns out he kept it going, s'got pretty notorious; over a hundred members."_

"That's great, Toph; good to know you're safe. How did you get out of the-,"

"_I got Suki to override the security hardware. Oh, she wants you to stop in with Teo."_

"Teo? How come?" Katara's hand was pushed off the door when Zuko tugged it open and dived for the wires under the dashboard.

"_I'm not sure. It sounded pretty important though."_

"Right." Katara nodded as Zuko stood up straight and without a word, moved to the other side of the car, as if he were ignoring her. "Okay, I'll see you soon."

"_Ba-bye." _

Katara tucked her phone into her jeans' pocket and slid into the car, looking to Zuko. "I need to head over to a friends' place."

Zuko grunted in annoyance. "Fine." The car backed out of its spot and onto the road.

* * *

"So what's going on? You and Suki planning a prison break or something?"

Katara raised an eyebrow, leading Zuko into the dingy and shadowed basement area Teo inhabited most of the time. She let a smile wander onto her face. "Why?"

"I've had to jump security systems higher than the Boiling Rock's to get the info she wanted." Teo grinned. "She asked me to get this to you." He opened the drawer of his desk and handed some papers to Katara. Her eyes flickered over the papers.

She felt her face dropping. "She usually does all this herself."

"Well, no one knows encryptions like I do." Teo leant back and linked his hands together in his lap.

"Hm. What's this?" she looked at the second page. An address and a photograph of a crappy building were printed side-by-side on the page, the owner details in plain black and white underneath.

"Wharf warehouse. Apparently you asked her to find a warehouse. It's not far from Pier Seventeen." Teo scratched his chin. "Owned by a Louis A. Mason."

Zuko brought his own eyebrows down. "Where have I heard that name before?" he muttered, looking over Katara's shoulder at the papers.

"He was a lawyer. He defended all the big mobsters." Teo frowned.

"Was?" Katara looked to Teo.

"He's dead. The warehouse is caught up in probate. It was supposed be sold and the money was gonna go to his son, but his brother contested the will." Teo brought up an article on the computer. Tony's ugly mug was up on the screen, an article accompanying it. "And guess who his brother is."

Katara peered at the screen. "Tony." She breathed out. "I don't understand."

"Well, one brother was running one end of the ring, and the other brother was running the other. I'm not quite sure what was going on. The whole thing was wrapped up tight like a mob-job."

Katara pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, so how come these two don't have the same last name?" she tried.

"Mason and his son took on his wife's maiden name when she died. From what I can tell, Castaldo didn't like his brother's wife or his nephew."

"What makes you say that?" Katara grabbed the chair in the corner and pulled it out, sitting in it, deep in thought.

"She was high-class. Querida Bonita Mason, she met Louis in law school. She was the link from the drug ring to the mob, her father was Don Azulon Scorsese. Illegitimately born to a Mexican cleaning lady, yeah, but she managed to keep a foot in the door by defending her Guido's in court."

Zuko's eyes were wide. He shook his head for a second. "So where's the link between the two?"

"Aha, you see, her father, big Don daddy-o, paid for her to go to college and law school. He doted on her. I mean, the guy had two sons, and he finally got a little girl, right? He was bound to. Anyway, she got in with this Louis Castaldo, who was already in with the drug loop. There's the link, are you with me?" Teo held up a hand, making sure they were paying attention.

The two nodded in concentration.

"So, Castaldo buys a warehouse, gets into business with a few more goons and suddenly he's up and running a drug circus with his brother. Then Don Azulon decides he wants out of the drug loops after his wife Ilah dies of a heroin overdose. He talks to Louis, saying he doesn't want his Guido's legal fees going to running a drug ring." Teo paused and reached for the cup of coffee next to his computer. "Louis _agrees, _okay? They set up a meeting to determine a settlement. _But, _before the meeting, Tony finds out about it. He panics; his business is going down the tubes and it's all because of the mob. So Bonita takes a bullet to the head to make it look like a mob killing. Castaldo becomes Mason, and their son Vincent leaves the area for Arizona."

Zuko nodded in understanding. It was well known that most mobsters fled for Arizona when they had enough of the heat of the mafia. This guy Vince was his cousin, like Lu Ten. Katara had her lower lip pinched between her thumb and forefinger in concentration.

"Okay, so Don Azulon is pissed. He figures the drug loop took her out in retaliation for his taking his business elsewhere. Before he can retaliate for them killing Bonita, he's assassinated by one of his own. Don Ozai takes his place as written in his father's will. Ozai cuts all ties with the drug ring and vows never to be involved with them again. Two years after he becomes Don, Louis tries to contact him to find out what happened to Bonita, and Ozai claims to know nothing about her. Louis' money has held up the ring with his brother, so far. The last thing Tony wants is for Louis to find out who killed his wife, and so Tony kills his brother." Teo put his cup down. "Are you guys following?"

They nodded again.

"Good. Anyhow, the warehouse is all set to go to Vince, but Tony contests the will. The warehouse is caught up in probate, and Tony's running both ends of the business. _But,_ Vince's back in the picture and he wants to sell off the warehouse and hand Tony over to the cops." Teo held up a finger to get their attention. "So Vince sets up with Charlie and they devise a plan where Tony thinks his pack-mule is cheating him." he pointed to Katara. "My guess is the plan was for Charlie and Vince to help Tony find you to make him think they were all on the same side, so they could get revenge for the deaths of Bonita and Louis."

Katara was frowning hard now. "Huh. Wait, so Charlie isn't actually going to send any thugs after me?"

"I doubt it. He knows you delivered everything." Teo was scratching his chin in thought.

"So I don't have to leave Brooklyn?" Katara felt a smile growing on her face. Teo just smiled as Katara got out of her seat. "Thanks, Teo. I owe you lunch, 'kay?"

"Sounds like a plan. Is that all?" Teo looked up to her.

"One more thing." Katara glanced to Zuko, and he nodded reluctantly, reading her mind. "Where can we find Vincent?"

* * *

"_I know a song that gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves. I know a song that gets on your nerves, it get, get, gets on your nerves. I know a song that-," _Katara's singing was suddenly interrupted.

"Will you please shut up?" Zuko yelled, his fingernails still dug into the rubber on the steering wheel.

Katara smirked. "Gets on your nerves, doesn't it?" she smiled mischievously.

"This is going to be a really, _really, _long drive if we don't get along, okay? I'm driving, so I set the rules. And singing is _banned._" He growled under his breath, taking a hand from the steering wheel to his pocket and expertly producing a cigarette from the pack inside it. Holding it in his lips, he found his lighter and lit up.

"Not even 'wheels on the bus'?"

"_No. Singing._" He glanced at her with a hateful glare.

"Okay." Katara paused for a long while, before perking up and smiling innocently. "I spy with my little eye… something beginning with-,"

"Shut up! Just shut up, for two seconds, can you _please, __**please, **_just shut the fuck up?" Zuko shouted, his grip on the steering wheel loosening as he turned his head to glare at her.

Katara went deathly silent and her eyes wandered out her window. "Fine." She muttered. _'Seriously, dude, take a chill pill.' _She thought to herself. There was a long pause as Katara bit her lip in thought before grinning and speaking again. "I spy with my little eye-,"

"That's it!" Zuko yelled, removing his cigarette from his lips and turning to stare at Katara. "I swear to god, I will-,"

"What? Spank me?" Katara asked, a joking tone in her voice with feigned hopefulness. "'Cause I don't know, I think that would have the opposite effect…"

"Ugh." Zuko muttered under his breath. "You wish, sunshine."

"What, you think a mob boy like you is too good for the likes'a me?"

"Yeah. Somethin' like that." Zuko scoffed, turning back to the watch the road.

"Oh? Well good. You're not my type anyway." Katara huffed, snipping her words at him. "Jerk."

"Oh, whats'a matter, sweetheart, I break your heart or somethin'?"

"Yeah, I'm dying inside. I might just kill myself if you turn your back for too long." Katara answered sarcastically.

"Think I'd turn my back? I'd watch. Hell, I'd have a camera."

Katara paused. He had bested her with that final answer. Sarcasm and insults were easier to shoot than hurt was to feel. And that's what she felt. Maybe he was too good for her anyhow. You'd have thought, with the scar, he'd have decided that beggars weren't choosers, but honestly, the scar wasn't too bad, and otherwise he was extraordinarily handsome. Pretty, even.

"You're sick." She muttered bitterly.

"I try."

"_The wheels on the bus go-,"_

"**ARGH!"**

More distinctive than his groan was a blip or a bleep, unmistakably that of a police car's siren. Zuko glanced into the rear-view, then the wing-mirror, and then finally to this speedometer. '_Oh, shit,' _he cursed in his head. The Brooklyn police would bend to his will, but now, having been through the main city and cruising through the Bronx, Zuko could predict he was going to have to smooth-talk his way out of this one. He had no idea how, considering he wasn't old enough for a license, was driving a stolen car and without his 'okay', Katara had decided to steal some car plates back in the city, not to mention the pot she was carrying. He wasn't a generally fast driver, he recalled.

'_Except when stupid bitches are yapping in my ear,' _he reminded himself.

The car pulled up, and in the wing-mirror, Zuko caught sight of a massive black guy in the familiar gear of the boys in blue. He didn't look like a guy who fucked around - the Bronx was filled with street gangs and petty thieves. _'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,' _he repeated in his head.

"Oh, fuck." Katara pulled a face, looking in the rear-view, as if the predicament they were now in was similar to that of milk spilling on suede. "Um … right." She glanced to Zuko, who by now had snuffed his cigarette and had his forehead pressed against the steering wheel in melodramatic irritation.

"We're never getting to Jersey, are we?" Zuko muttered, more to himself that Katara.

Katara inhaled deeply. "Nope." She grunted sharply.

* * *

Katara jangled her cuffs in boredom, patting a tune against her lap and humming 'Major Tom'. Her head bobbed to the music she made as Zuko sat beside her, also cuffed, in the back of the cop's car. Zuko, however, was cuffed behind his back, because he'd gotten out of the car before the cop had arrived at the door, and his gun had literally fallen out of his jacket onto the tarmac beneath him. Katara had been the joker, laughing her way to hell as Zuko defeatedly raised his hands and lowered his head in shame. He'd even been thrown onto the bonnet of the car as the cop cuffed him. It was all like something out of an episode of _Dog The Bounty Hunter._

"**Will you shut up?" **Both Zuko and the black cop in the driver's seat yelled at the exact same moment. Katara pouted. _'Damn! Just before the best bit!'_

"I'm hungry." Katara whined. "Don't you guys get free Dunkin' Donuts?" she leant forward to ask the cop.

"Shut up." The cop replied.

Katara's mouth formed an 'O' shape as she looked to Zuko. "Did you hear that?" she gasped.

"Shut up, Katara." Zuko answered.

Two hours later, they were sat in an interrogation room. What for, they didn't know. Ten minutes had passed before someone showed up; a tall, thin woman with long black hair and a few rough tattoos here and there. Katara spoke casually.

"Hey, Jun."

"Hey, Katara." Jun replied, in a slightly more serious tone. "Okay, so I can let you go on one condition."

Zuko's eyes narrowed in confusion as Katara answered. "What's that?"

"You tell me where Haru is."

Katara's face fell. "What?"

"Come on, Katara, you have to know where he is."

"He's missing?" Katara was pale already. "Oh, fuck." She glanced to Zuko. "You think the freedom fighters would do that?"

"Nah. They're nothing without those two, er … Jet and Tony, wasn't it? My best guess is that Vince guy." Zuko frowned darkly. "Shit."

"Vince?" Jun produced a pad and paper, seemingly out of nowhere. "Vince what?"

"Vincent Mason." Zuko recited calmly. "I figured he wouldn't want his business being investigated."

Jun nodded as she scribbled it down. "Mob types tend not to. Alright, I'm having a look-see what I can do to get you kids out without calling your folks …" she eyed Zuko, who pulled a thankful face. "But you'll have to sit tight in a cell for a few minutes."

* * *

Katara sat at one end of the stinky cell with her eyes trained on Zuko, who was sat on the cot with one leg pulled up, an ankle on his knee, smoking a cigarette that nobody had bothered to take away from him. She was fiddling with her phone, though only barely glancing at the screen occasionally, mainly watching Zuko. "Hey, Zuko."

Zuko gave a small breath of annoyance. "Yeah."

"Why did you want Aang?" she finally looked to the screen for more than two seconds, flicking up the touch screen and opening her photo album. A picture of her brother filled the screen and she managed a brief smile, before returning her attention to Zuko.

"What?" he raised his good eyebrow.

"When you tried to jack the car off us. You said you wanted the car and my friend. Why?" she frowned at him, still feeling the black eye that was beginning to fade on her face.

Zuko shrugged. "My father told me to bring him. It's like you said. I take orders, don't question 'em, get the job done and get my cut. Pretty straightforward." He sighed smoke.

Katara thought he'd say this. "Why do you think he wants him?"

"I don't know. You probably know better than I do. Does the kid have a private bounty?"

Katara didn't know what a private bounty was, but by piecing it together, figured it was some kind of bounty you could put on someone's head without police authority, given you had the cash to do so. "Probably. You think he wants to cash him in?" Katara drew her cell phone out of her pocket again and rolled it over her knuckles skillfully.

Wanting to change the subject so he didn't have to talk about his father, he fixed his eyes and mind on Katara's phone. "How'd you get them to let you keep that on you?" he raised his good eyebrow, checking the pocket of his jacket, finally deciding to check it for what the cops had allowed him to keep. His phone wasn't on him, but he was relieved to find his cigarettes in the pocket.

"Oh, when I handed the cop my jacket I swiped my hand over his little friend. They're nicer to you if you do that. You should try it." Katara joked dirtily, her eyes fixed on her screen, though she paid no attention to it at all. She tilted her head back and felt the white cinderblock wall against it as she sighed in boredom.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, toots," he answered sarcastically, flicking up a cigarette and checking himself for a lighter. "Or I could go into the next cell and ask _Bubba_ if he's a giver or a taker …" he gestured across the stone hall to a cell where a large, burly Hispanic man was pacing.

Katara was about to laugh, but the sound of a heavy metal door sliding open interrupted her train of thought. Both their heads snapped up and Jun approached with the keys to their cell. "Alright, then, Katara. Get your boyfriend out of here before anyone else reads the report on this, or they'll have my badge." She jangled the keys in one hand and approached their cell. "The car you were pulled over in is parked out front, keys are on the driver's seat. Whatever the guys confiscated is in the glove compartment."

"He's not my boyfriend." Katara rolled her eyes calmly, standing up and tucking her phone back into her jacket. "But thanks."

Zuko got up and accompanied Katara to the door that Jun pulled open for them. He nodded appreciatively to the police officer, after Katara patted her friend on the shoulder in the same manner. Jun led them through the door she'd just come through, past some desks where more police officers were doing reports, and out to the glass door through which they saw the streets and traffic on them.

"Catch you later." Katara waved a hand over her shoulder as she headed through the door.

"You'd better hope you _don't._" Jun replied, crossing her arms, watching as the mafia boy followed Katara.

* * *

Katara drummed her hands on the dashboard enthusiastically. "Alrighty then, where to?" she asked in excitement as Zuko pulled away from the police station. She gave the dashboard a hard smack and it popped open, revealing Zuko's expensive wallet, her pot, his cell phone and both guns. She snatched up her brother's gun and tucked it into her jacket, and then grabbed her pot, considering lighting up.

Zuko glanced at her as he drove. "Jersey, dumbass. I need that money, and your little bald friend," he pointed out cynically, reaching over and taking his Glock and wallet from the glove compartment. He tucked them into his jacket and continued driving on.

Katara screwed up her face in decision. "You can have your money, but you're not taking Aang." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him from her seat.

The boy with the scar gave a scoff of a laugh. "Or what?"

Katara quite calmly replied; "Or I'm not taking you to my friends. I'll get out of this car and let you figure it out on your own."

After a long pause, Zuko pulled his face into an expression of disgust. "You get out of this car and I'll put a bullet through your skull." He brought the car to a halt in the middle of the street. The two cars behind him screeched to a stop and blared their horns at him. In the background, the two of them could hear someone yelling; "Hey, move it, asshole!" at them.

The two of them drew their guns just as fast as each other, and pointed them at their companions' foreheads. There was a sharp double-click that resounded through the car, as both guns' safeties were unset and the hammers were drummed back. Zuko managed a small chuckle.

"Come on then, bitch; shoot me," he dared confidently.

Katara's elbow and his were touching; both of them nearly close enough to press the ends of their guns to one another's temples. She kept a calm expression as the wheels of her mind turned; what did she know about this guy? Enough to know it was only stupid for him to blow her brains out. He was threatening to kill her because she was refusing to help him. She would've laughed if she felt like it. But Zuko? If she were to shoot him through the head right now, it wouldn't screw her up at all, so long as she got out of Scorsese territory fast enough. She watched his face fall into seriousness as he came to this realization and she smirked.

"You know I could. Don't you," she bit back a laugh of triumph.

Zuko's gun went limp in his hand and he held it up in defeat, his face screwed up in fury. "Let's not to anythin' _stupid, _toots." he suggested calmly.

"No. Let's not." She held her gun up as she twisted in her seat, reaching for the door handle with her free hand. "I'm going to get out of the car. And you're not going to do _anything," _she explained, as the door popped open. She stepped one foot out, and then the other, climbing out backwards, pushing the door open with her free hand. As soon as she stood outside the car, she slid out of the space between the car and the door and aimed at him through the glass window. With her free hand, she waved at him cockily, backing away carefully. She turned and ran, then, making for the nearest bus station at the fastest pace she'd ever run.

Zuko may have been a fast draw, but only a true street-dweller could simultaneously aim a gun at someone's head _and _rob them of the money in their wallet without taking the wallet itself. She was headed to Jersey to get her people, and then she'd go back to Brooklyn and hide out until everything died down. She hoped she never saw Zuko Scorsese again, and at the same time, hoped she did.

* * *

**A/N: Here ya go! :)**


	5. On The Road Again

Katara hadn't considered just how hard it would be to get to New Jersey without a car. She'd gotten as far as the Brooklyn side of the Verrazano-narrows bridge, in about four days, before the money she'd lifted from Zuko (and a few people she'd passed on the street) ran out and she found herself broke, homeless, hungry and tired as the sky began to grumble as though it wanted to rain. She sat on a curbside as the first few drops fell from the sky, her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, eyeing her sneakers thoughtfully.

Maybe she should've waited a little longer before ditching Zuko; like until she got close enough to _walk _to her brother and friends.

Eventually, Katara got up and stuck her thumb out to the traffic, trying to hitch a ride down to Staten Island. One slowed - a young guy in a car he'd probably stolen from his parents - leant over the passenger seat and grinned at her through the open window, suggesting that she give him 'services' for a couple of bucks and a ride straight to her destination. Katara pulled a face and high-tailed it away, down the street.

She thought about Zuko, and her decision to leave him. She could've gotten a lot closer to her people is she hadn't taken off; but he too would've gotten a lot closer to them. Katara found herself sighing as she walked, rain beginning to spittle down from the sky. She'd have been lying if she said there hadn't been of air of entertainment to her short time with the mafia boy.

'_I know a song that gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves …'_

A tiny smirk came to Katara's face. Yeah - it really did get on your nerves after a while.

"Katara!" someone yelled out.

Katara gasped and looked up, and around. Across the street, parked in front of a four-star hotel called 'Hotel Prince', on 93rd street, was a dark green Ford Escort with a rolled down back window and a man in his mid-twenties leaning out to speak to her. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Can I help you?" she called carefully.

The man was of some kind of Latin descent, smiled amicably at her and gave her no reason to suspect anything. "Actually, you can," he smiled warmly and then said something to the driver, a man in the passenger seat and a man next to him, and all three doors opened at once. On instinct, Katara's legs bolted to run.

If she thought things had been bad before, she was sorely mistaken. Katara turned as fast as she could and sprinted toward the avenue connecting the streets, willing herself not to look over her shoulder as the heavy thudding smacks of feet on the sidewalks thumped behind her. She pieced it together as she ran; the guy in the car was Vincent Mason.

One of the men behind her reached out and grasped at her, and she felt a tremendous tug on the back of her head, her feet slipping out from under her as the end of her long braid was caught in a tight, sweaty fist. She flailed out, but the back of her head his the sidewalk with a dull thump and her world span for a short while. She blinked her eyes open to see the one over her having released her braid to catch his breath.

Katara took a moment and staggered to her feet, stumbling away from them as they lunged once more for her. One hand found its way to the pain at the back of her head as she moved away. She ducked low and grabbed something of a dull orange color and turned to throw the heavy object, on instinct. The brick went flying across the air.

She didn't see it hit, but she heard it as she turned and ran away. The man behind her hit the pavement and one of the two men behind him tumbled over him to the ground. The final one vaulted the other two and raced after Katara, but she grabbed the metal bins at her convenience to block his path, causing him to crash right into them.

The girl disappeared around a corner, still clutching the back of her head.

* * *

Initially, Zuko had driven around Brooklyn looking for that annoying, pot-smoking, drug delivering, whining, irritating little bitch that had ditched, robbed and nearly shot him, but he gave up, called in to the family that he was running late on his task, and found a Thai-Japanese restaurant called 'Bangkok-Tokyo' on the corner of 84th street and 3rd Avenue.

After eating, Zuko approached the bar and ordered a drink. Of course, he had to flash them a fake ID to get this drink, but without any hassle, the bartender put a Budweiser down in front of him and allowed him his peace. His father was going to ream his ass if he didn't get that money back. He considered telling his father he'd be more likely to get the cash if he didn't have to get the kid.

And this was true.

But his father didn't take negotiations lightly. If he said something, so it would be. Nobody told him no, nobody tried to change his mind, and nobody tried to negotiate with him. It was the reason the Scorsese family and the Antonio family was currently at war with one another, with Kuei Antonio, head of the Antonio family, constantly fending off Scorsese takeovers across the city.

"Excuse me?" there was a soft voice from somewhere near him.

Zuko looked to the left of his seat at the bar and saw a girl taking the stool beside him, with her dark hair braided on her tanned, bare shoulders and her eyes bright and perky. Zuko would've scowled if he hadn't thought it would ruin his chances with the chick. There were many things that happened to you when you took a life, and one of them was that your eyes became like those of a dead person. Unsurprised. Lifeless. Bitter.

Zuko shot her his most charming smile. "Hey," he greeted.

The girl's head lolled differently on her neck - a clear difference between 'friendly' and 'flirtatious' in her body language. "That's one badass scar," she commented tactlessly.

Zuko schooled his features to keep himself from frowning. What was a person supposed to say to that? Thanks? No. Zuko thought about this briefly and turned his eyes back to his drink, the outer image of a smile still on his face. The smile didn't reach his eyes; it rarely did. "Barkeep," he called down to the bartender, "Get the lady a drink, on me."

The girl, who looked to be about his age, flashed the bartender a fake ID of her own, and then asked him for Amaretto, Kahlua and Milk; a true '_ladies_' drink. Zuko couldn't help but think about Katara, and what she might have ordered at a bar. Rum, probably. He had her pegged for a Rum person. Zuko himself liked Rum, though he leant more toward whiskey these days.

"So, can I ask your name?" the girl asked, when the bartender put her drink down in front of her.

Zuko breathed a sigh after a sip of beer. "Zuko," he answered calmly.

She tilted her head. "First or last?"

"First," he replied, glancing at her coolly.

"Oh," she nodded, "I'm Jin."

"Nice to meet you, Jin," Zuko smiled briefly. Thinking on her words, Zuko found himself wondering about Katara again, and what her last name might have been. There had been talk a few years ago, when he'd been in hospital with his scar, about someone called Katara. Some guy with a stab wound had been talking about them. It was probably just a coincidence.

Jin waited until the bartender walked away and then leant toward Zuko. "So, you got a girlfriend?" she asked curiously, before taking a ladylike sip of her drink.

Zuko considered this for a moment, looking to his hand on his beer, thinking about Mai. "Nah," he answered dryly, "_You_ got a girlfriend?" he smirked at the girl.

Jin smiled widely at his joke. "Nope," she let her eyes fall half-lidded and raised a shaped and pampered brow at him, running her tongue over her lower lip. "You doing anything tonight?" she queried suggestively.

Zuko sighed, knowing he wouldn't even have to up his game tonight. "Yeah - you, if all goes well," and he smirked as best he could with the day's events on his mind.

She grinned and giggled girlishly. "I like the way you talk," she purred, and put a hand on his arm.

* * *

It wasn't the first time Katara'd curled up on the streets to sleep for the night. She ducked under the shelter of the broken-off lid of a dumpster, propped against a brick wall and curled herself into a ball, her forehead to her knees and her hands on the bruised back of her head. Maybe she was concussed, but she was exhausted from running, and not even the threat of death would stop her from sleeping now.

It was dark, and the rain hit her makeshift shelter mercilessly, bringing her to open her eyes and stare into the dimly lit space she would sleep in tonight. She felt really stupid now; with miles to go before she got to her friends, no money and no means of transport. Even if she had a car, she had no idea how to drive one. Even if she wanted to steal a car, she had no idea how to hotwire one.

Katara realized just how talentless she was. She squeezed her eyes shut. No talent, no money, no education. No future.

Not that life had been any different before. And even if she did live past the age of sixteen, without a bullet in her skull, nobody was going to hire her. Sokka had a social security number, but he couldn't work for long, because of the way they lived. He didn't have a high school degree, or a good work ethic, either. Katara didn't really blame her brother.

But when it came down to it, nothing had actually changed. So why did she feel like she'd been thrown back into prison after walking free on parole? Maybe it was because she was alone. And she _was_alone; more alone than she'd ever been before.

She fell asleep. Tomorrow she'd walk across that bridge instead of hanging around for a ride.

* * *

Zuko strolled out of a hotel by the name of 'Hotel Prince' the next morning, earlier than was strictly necessary, but he had to get at least across the Verrazano-narrows bridge today, if he did nothing else. On top of that, he always made a point of leaving first after one-night stands, to avoid complications like 'can you give me a ride' and 'I thought it meant something'.

He lit up a cigarette in the early morning sun, recalling the weather to have cleared up tremendously after the pissing rain last night. He caught sight of the car parked across the street - a black Lincoln with a piece of red cloth tied on the driver's side door. He stalked across the road, jaywalking, as it were, and grabbed the door handle, finding the key to the car tucked with a cloth into the handle.

Minutes later, he was riding down the avenue toward the Verrazano-narrows bridge, with a sour look on his face. His mind still pawed at the idea of that Katara girl he'd spent the last few days with.

She could've gotten herself killed by now. Not that he cared or anything.

Zuko found himself halfway across the bridge when the car in front of him screeched to a halt - an SUV. Zuko hit the brakes to keep from smashing into it. He cursed under his breath and threw an insult out the window to the driver, who got out of their car. A huge, heavy-set Mexican-looking guy with tattoos on his knuckles stepped out onto the road as cars sounded their horns and New Yorkers hurled insults toward him.

The man stood there, staring at something out over the bridge. No. Not over the bridge; on it. On the sidewalk. Zuko looked.

His jaw dropped. "Son of a _bitch_!" he exclaimed in shock, at the flash of dark brown hair and the leather jacket he recognized as the one Katara'd been wearing. He just couldn't get _rid _of this bitch!

* * *

Katara was just minding her own business, walking for Jersey when out of the blue, an explosion rang out in her ears and she hit the deck, hands racing up to protect her head. Her knees scraped against the tarmac sidewalk inside her jeans, as did her elbows in her leather jacket, but she cared little about these facts. God-fuckin-dammit! This was just her fucking luck - for a shootout on the bridge to start _now_of all times.

"Grab her! Go! Go! Go!" someone was shouting, and Katara could hear horns blaring and feet on the road, moving between cars - toward her. She recognized the voice yelling and she instantly, thoughtlessly, reached for the gun tucked into the back of her jeans. It was one of the guys from the other day, from when Vince had tried to grab her.

One hand clutched where she'd hit her head the other day - where the remains of once-sticky blood clotted in her hair and she hadn't bothered to braid it back up again after sorting herself out in a pizzeria bathroom. What did these clowns even want with her? She was useless to them, though it would be nice if she knew where that Haru guy was.

She rolled onto her back and pulled the gun out, firing a shot as one of them came into view, vaulting the barrier between the traffic and the sidewalk. She got him through the leg and he went tumbling back into the road, giving her enough time to get up and get her feet under her. She ran. It was the only thing she really knew how to do. Some part of her, of course, knew it would do no good at this point, but she ran nonetheless.

"Katara!" someone shouted at her as she ran, pulling their car up along the sidewalk and driving alongside her. "Get in!"

She turned her head to look at the car and saw Zuko struggling to watch the road and keep an eye on her at the same time. 'Yeah, right' she thought dryly, raising her arm, legs still moving under her. She fired a shot at the car as a 'fuck off' gesture - just one across his nose. She didn't really want to kill him. Not really. There were shots coming at her from behind, but she wasn't going to get into a car with that jerk.

He immediately slammed the brakes in surprise, as she'd hoped, and she heard him cursing, "Fine - we can do this the hard way!" and she guessed he was climbing out of the car, pulling his own gun. She'd get away, though. She had to. Katara's mind turned to her advantages right now; for starters, if he wanted to try to tackle her, he'd have to fight off Vince's gunfire, too, and she had an advantage in speed, too. You happened upon speed after a few years practice with people running behind you.

And then the stupidest and most monumentally idiotic idea came to her.

She moved toward the outer rail of the bridge, and grabbed the top of it, bending her knees to vault over and down, over and down, down … Fuckin' _hell_, this was so fucking stupid! But she was desperate, and desperate people did desperate things. Another bullet whizzed toward her, whistling past her ear. Another advantage - these guys were terrible shots.

She could practically hear Zuko's panicked intake of breath as he ran toward her.

Katara's legs pushed her higher, higher … over … her hand released the rail …

And …

"**Oh,** _**FUCK!**_"


	6. Another Little Kink

The water surface was still and unbroken; strain on the word 'still'. There was complete silence, as the force of the jump drove Katara deeper and deeper into the cold waters. The silence wavered at the sound of a bullet splitting through the blues of the water, and Katara would've tried to dodge, but the water weighted her down, and she was still plunging deeper. The bullet missed anyway.

Another bullet pierced the water top, and Katara was still being driven down deeper into the sunlit depths under her by the stupid leap she'd taken. She remembered leaning forward, away from the bridge, holding her legs together to slip into the water with minimal resistance; she knew belly flopping onto it would kill her. Katara also recalled that leaning forward had caused her to slip into the water headfirst instead of feet-first.

She'd rolled over in the water and slowly opened her eyes, her held breath getting harder to keep. She could see the sun through the hazy blue filter of the water, and it was beautiful. Katara let herself go for a moment, ignoring the impending doom of her life on the street. The sun sparkled rays of light through the water to her, and it felt like … like _heaven._

And then a bullet pierced through the water and through her body.

The sun was blocked out when she squeezed her eyes shut and lost her breath to a scream of pain she couldn't keep in. Water rushed into her lungs as she gasped out and despite wanting to claw for the light - for air - her hands could only clutch at the pain; the spot to the lower right hand side of her torso, in the sensitive spot between her hip and belly button.

'_I'm shot' _she thought to herself, tasting blood beyond the saltwater in her lungs. _'I'm drowning' _her unfocused mind continued, _'But … but it isn't so bad.'_

Her ears picked up more bullets slicing through the blue, and then, an airy, heavy, splashing noise like dropping a cinderblock in a bathtub full of water. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but pain. Katara started thinking about her brother, and Aang and Toph, and she immediately let go of the spot she was bleeding from and forced her eyes open.

Blue eyes searched for light, and instead focused on gold ones, and a hand reaching out for her. Katara's blue eyes, as tired as they may have been looking, immediately widened and she threw her weak arms for the hand. Zuko. _Zuko! _She grabbed for him, and missed terribly. Her eyes focused a little better on his gold ones, and she spotted bubbles coming from his nose.

A twinge of jealousy hit her at the realization that he had _air._

An iron grip wrapped around one of her forearms. The bullets had stopped. Katara toyed with the idea of kissing him now, under the water, just for the air in his lungs. Zuko held her with one hand and was kicking; he'd turned himself around and was swimming for the top; pulling her up with him. She felt the pressure of the water decreasing, as they got closer to the surface.

And then like waking up from a terrible nightmare, she felt herself pushing through the surface of the water, air on her face, blinding light attacking her from all angles, and the hot sun warming her skin. She heard Zuko gasping for breath near her, and his grip on her adjusting; he grabbed her arms and pulled her onto his back and started swimming again.

* * *

When Zuko finally dragged her far enough across the harsh river between Brooklyn and Staten Island, he felt the sand under the water and pushed along it toward the shore. Katara had passed out on his back a while back; he wished she'd been able to cough up the water upon surfacing, but it was too late for that now. He also hoped she wasn't already dead; he'd have dragged her out of the river for no reason at all if that were the case.

He reached dry sand and fell to his knees, completely exhausted. He dropped her gracelessly to the sand and rolled her to her back, using one hand to push the hair from his face. He was still struggling for breath, but when a thought occurred to him, he wasn't too weak to groan in annoyance.

Zuko grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. She didn't stir. "Come on, Katara, _please _don't make me do this," he complained under his breath, considering performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Just his fucking luck … he spotted a patch of red on the lowest part of her shirt and his brow furrowed. Zuko parted her jacket and lifted the wet tank top from her skin. "Ah, fuck," he breathed; the wound was under her trousers. On the plus side, it had probably missed any vital organs.

He shot a look in the direction of her face, desperately hoping she wouldn't wake up while he sorted out her bullet wound.

Quick hands unbuckled her belt, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and revealed the source of the bleeding, as well as a pair of simple black underwear. As soon as the denim came away from the hole, it began bleeding again, and Zuko began to unbutton his new, dark purple suit shirt to pack it. Waste of a nice shirt, but she was his one ticket to the two million. Plus he kind of had to repay a favor (even though it had been her who'd shot him in the first place).

His jacket and shirt came off easily, despite being soaking wet. He pressed the shirt between her wound and her jeans and then set about closing up her trousers to hold it in place.

Zuko leant over her and snorted an annoyed breath, before he put his hands together and held them high up over his head. She was _not _going to be happy with him when she woke up. On the bright side, she'd only smack him if she _did _wake up, and waking up would be a good thing for her to do right about now. He brought his hands down hard on a spot between her ribcage and stomach.

Katara sprang to life, spitting blood and water and gasping for breath. She mustered the strength to roll onto her side somehow, to face away from him, and she coughed up water and blood onto the dry sand that was sticking to her wet hair. Zuko grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

"Stay still," Zuko began sharply, still tasting salt in his mouth, "You're shot."

Katara probably would've barked something like 'no shit, asshole' at him for that, but as it was, she couldn't speak for being too busy coughing up water. Zuko liked this new, wordless Katara a lot better than he'd liked the previous one - the one with the big mouth, the stash of pot and the bad attitude. One hand, Zuko saw, was clutching at the spot where he'd packed the wound, and another was reaching behind her for something.

Zuko reached out, grabbed her shoulder and roughly set her on her back again. He moved to pick her up, when something hard and metallic exploded into a corner of his forehead. A dull thud resounded in his head and pain split from the point of trauma, deep into his brain and down his neck. His consciousness spun and he felt immediately unsure of his ability to stay upright.

The injured party had reached into her belt to draw her brother's gun. It was useless as a firearm in its dripping state - the ammo was probably unreliable - but it came in handy as a blunt weapon.

"Agh!" Zuko groaned out inarticulately, his hands coming free of her shoulders as he pulled away and brought a hand to the point of impact.

Katara groped weakly for the sand and pulled her legs up under her to stagger to her feet. She felt the heat of her blood increase at her movements, where it soaked through the impromptu packing and showed through her jeans. She wasn't leading him to Aang. Yes, she was shot, and he had technically saved her life and been all set to help her, but she wasn't leading him to Aang.

Zuko clambered to his feet, dry sand stuck to his soaking suit trousers and bare back, and moved after her. "Stop!" he shouted after her, his awareness clearing after the blow to the head. She'd only further hurt herself if she tried to fight him off, or run away, now. He had to commend her on optimism for trying, but it was pure stupidity to believe it would work.

Katara felt her breath hard and heavy in her chest as she staggered up the beach toward the road, where she could hear traffic. Her blue eyes were unfocused, but she could pick out the gray of civilization amongst the tawny sand and sporadic grass patches. Her pain made it harder to move with each step; the leg on the side of the wound felt pins and needles, and each step made her wince, but she kept going.

Zuko's legs pushed under him and he was gaining on her at a run. His fatigue after swimming for so long was repeating on him, only made worse by the knock to the forehead. He could see her staggering weakly and choppily, but quickly, up the beach a few feet ahead of him, the gun held loosely in one hand at her side, by the shaft. He shouted after her, in an attempt to make her see reason. "You're gonna hurt yourself!" he gasped for breath, reaching for her.

His hand caught her arm, but she wriggled free and turned to try and shove him down to the sand, only for a fresh wave of pain to wash over her. Zuko lunged out and grabbed her by the sopping wet hair swinging from the back of her head, unable to catch hold of her anywhere else. She was caught between doubling over to clutch her wound, and throwing her head back into where he clutched her hair. Zuko managed to get another arm around her and grip her in a tight bear hug.

She crumpled a little, her body folding in on itself, toward the wound at her middle. He heard her whimper; a sound he'd almost thought her incapable of making. She was always so fucking stubborn - even now - and as well as that got her into trouble, she'd gotten through the past few days without so much as a complaint. "Get off me," she gasped out, her voice barely audible to him. She was being stupid, of course; she'd probably hit the ground if he were to let go.

Zuko tightened his grip on her with a grimace. "And then what?" he asked breathlessly. He had to reason with her. There had to be _some _sense in her head to reason with.

She hung her head a little more, and then gave a tiny, almost imperceptible, choppy nod, and relaxed into his grip a little.

Zuko gave a relieved breath and released her hair from his hand; she wasn't fighting him anymore. He turned her in his grip, ducked down and slid one arm behind her knees, picking them from the wet sand under her feet. Turned around now, he could see the makeshift packing he'd put on her wound wasn't going to do much, and she was bleeding really badly. She wasn't holding any of her own weight now, just focusing on breathing. "Shit," he murmured, and proceeded to move, shirtless, carrying this stupid pain in the ass of a girl up the beach at as fast a pace as he could.

* * *

**A/N: I haven't updated this in _ages. _So, because I'm having trouble writing other stuff, I thought I'd update this. Cause it's light and easy to do.**


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